


Hearts don't break around here

by dreamingbook



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Getting Back Together, Goats and a Farm, Illegal use of magic against Chelsea Fc for the greater good, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingbook/pseuds/dreamingbook
Summary: "I didn't know where to look for you" Dele says. "Where do broken hearts even go?"





	Hearts don't break around here

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> I don't know what even happend here so I just leave it like it is. I somehow got inspired to write this while listening to Ed Sheeran once again (surprise, surprise). Another song I have to give credit for this is "Where do broken hearts go" by One Direction. I feel like both songs complement each other in a way and .... well maybe that is just me
> 
>  _This indicates flashbacks_ This story is practically two stories in one intertwining at the end and I hope it somehow comes across like this.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and I apologize for any mistakes that might occur. English is not my native language.  
> Please let me know what you think about this <3 ♥♥♥♥♥♥
> 
> EDIT: This work has now been beta'd by the lovely jazzy

Eric is running, running until he doesn’t know where he is going. His lungs are aching from the cold air, his legs cramping, but he doesn’t stop. He’s angry, doesn’t know where his head is, so he lets his legs take over. He’s still fast ;  the years of training still making it easy for him. There is no ball, but he long has learned to run without it. The path is empty, it’s raining again and Eric feels the wetness already seeping through his running gear, but he doesn’t care. 

 

The path is crunching under his shoes and it’s all that gets him going. When he smells the familiar stuffy musk of animal fur, the stank of dried-out dung and the sharp smell of old, oily metal that is when he finally slows down. 

 

He sees the metal wire surrounding a meadow, carefully constructed like a cage that offers him freedom. It’s a bit outside of London and he has always loved to come here to find some peace and quiet. Eric never pictured himself  connecting with an old farm so much, but it happened and now he’s back here. 

 

It’s not abandoned, still inhabited by a list  of animals and their two owners. Eric has only met the married couple once, while he was back out here walking with his dogs, and they offered him cake and a coffee. The Clarksons were nice and told  Eric to come here whenever he wanted to. It’s been a few months and Eric is surprised that his feet wanted him to return here. 

 

When he reaches the wire he tries to catch his breath. 

 

Hands pressed on his knees he’s breathing, warming his lungs until they don’t hurt anymore. There’s rain dropping from his nose and sweat from his eyebrows. With the back of his hand he brushes it away, before taking in the view more carefully. The sky is grey, it’s not dark but not light either and Eric feels the heavy clouds hanging over his head. 

There are two goats running around the meadow and Eric recognizes them instantly. A small smile creeps on his face as he climbs in between the barbed wire, carefully avoiding the barbs, to prevent injury  to himself. It’s not an easy task but he eventually manages to  slip through it, making his way to them.

 

The heavy pounding of his heart immediately ebbs into its normal rhythm  and there are only a few things that can make this happen: the two goats, his dogs and family and… Eric doesn’t want to think about it.  He shakes his head as if he could just shake the thoughts away.There was a time when Dele was able to make him happy, now he only gets sad and angry when he thinks about him.

 

That’s why he came  here in the first place. Eric’s still can’t believe it, doesn’t know what to think. The newspaper had landed inside his trashcan, it’s not their fault for bearing the news, but it is not the kind of news Eric wants to see . It’s not bad  but not good news   either and Eric gets angry. Not often but it happens. His heart is not healed, the old wounds ripped open within seconds. 

 

He’s coming back. 

 

Back to England.

 

Back to the club.

 

Back to  _ him. _

 

Just thinking about it makes Eric’s blood boil and his hands curl into  fists once again. He’s not sure why he’s so angry and why he had the need to run, but now he’s standing in the rain at the one place he shouldn’t be and he hates himself for it. 

He hates that this is the only place that he feels at home anymore, even though it bears so many memories. 

 

Thinking of them hurts and Eric has to swallow hard to ignore the aching in his chest. He’s here to distract himself, not to pity himself even more. 

 

As if the goats know that Eric isn’t in the best mood today, Anthony and Jonas come towards him, both of them bleating happily into the silence. Eric smiles at them and he’s beginning to feel a bit better already.

 

He searches the pockets of his jacket before finding what he is looking for. Pressed hay pellets have always been their favorite and Eric is always having some with him, just in case he ends up here again. Not that it happens so much anyway. 

He had stolen them from when he last visited the zoo with his little niece, subconsciously taking them with him. 

 

The rough tongue of the goat is tickling his fingers on one hand, while his other hand is carefully stroking the dark fur of Anthony. He’s drenched, almost as much as himself and Eric hopes he’s not getting a cold. But Anthony doesn’t seem to mind being wet, still munching at the hay Eric is holding out for him.

 

_ Anthony.  _

 

Eric still has to chuckle when he thinks about the name. 

 

His happy state of being only lasts for about another minute, when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He swears and almost accidently hits Jonas in the face, who had carefully sneaked himself up on Eric’s left. 

 

Still shy, Eric thinks fondly, before trying to get his phone up to his ear. It’s all wet and slippery so taking the call is more difficult than he imagines. 

 

“Hello?“

 

There's silence on the other end for a moment and Eric thinks about just hanging up , but it’s then when he hears the familiar voice speaking. 

 

“Hi, It’s me.”

 

Hearing Dele’s voice so close to his ear feels like a stab in the gut and Eric almost doubles over. 

 

Eric briefly wonders if he should ask who’s on the phone, acting like he doesn’t know, but he’s an adult now, knows how to act mature most of the time. He’s closer to being 30 than being 18 after all.

 

“Why are you calling me?” he asks instead, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. He doesn't know why he is still affected like this, it has been years. But he’s still Dele, always going to be. Maybe he still cares after all.

 

There’s some shuffling on the other side of the phone and then silence. Eric thinks about hanging up once again and maybe throwing his phone across the yard. It’s still raining and Eric thinks nothing has ever captured his mood quite like the english weather does.

 

Fuck it. He should be able to do a normal phone call.

 

“How are you?” the voice asks and all the pent up tension Eric has been trying to get out of system by running since this morning, finally seems to be reaching its peak. 

 

“Long time since you asked me that,” he says, it doesn’t sound bitter, it’s a fact they both know and Dele sighs on the other side of the phone.

 

“So I’m asking now.”

 

“Why?“ Eric asks again before he can help himself, words tumbling from his tongue.

”Dele, why are you coming back?” 

 

He doesn’t get an answer because his phone stops working, wet from the rain and maybe Eric should have charged it before going out running alone, but it’s not like his mind was in a clear space anyway.

 

He sighs before putting the device back into his pockets, useless now. Jonas and Anthony are staring at him curiously.

 

“I know, I know.” he says before laying himself flat down on the wet grass, not even caring one bit that he’s getting mut on all of his clothes. The rain stops pouring and the sun breaks through the clouds. It looks like sky just opened itself up and Eric wonders if this is a sign.

 

Dele Alli. National treasure and superstar. The Prodigal  son returns. Maybe it’s karma or maybe just bad luck. Eric doesn’t know if he should be happy about it or furious. His mind is still angry but his heart is not so sure.

  
  


*

 

_ “We should give them names,” Dele says smiling before he gives one of the animals another bit of hay to eat. _

_ It’s a small goat, Eric notices. It’s still a baby, black like the night with a white dot on it’s nose. It’s cute but Eric is still wary about petting the baby goat, afraid of what it might  do.  _

_Normally he isn’t afraid of animals, he has two dogs after all, but with them it’s different and Eric is simply not used to goats. Cows, yes and even horses, but goats? They’ve never been on his radar, not until now.  They stink as well, he wrinkles his nose in distaste, the strong smell of_ _animals heavy in the air. Eric can’t quite place it. It’s mixed with the smell of freshly mowed grass, which is a weird combination Eric thinks, but he’s getting used to it._

 

_ There’s another goat intensely staring at him and Eric feels the urge to squirm away. _

 

_ “I’m sure they already have names Dell-boy,”  Eric says, before sitting himself down next to Dele on the meadow and picking on the grass. _

_ It’s a warm sunday in July and Eric doesn’t even remember how they ended up here on this particular meadow. Somehow they got sidetracked during their morning run and ended up on a farm.  _

_ There’s a big barn next to the meadow they’re currently on. It’s  massive and made out of  wood, looking like it had seen  better days a long time ago, the brown color uneven and peeled. Eric can hear sounds of moving machinery, indicating that someone is working on the land nearby and he hopes that they don’t get in trouble for making themselves comfortable next to two small goats. _

 

_ “Well I don’t see any name signs,” Dele says, raising an eyebrow at Eric  who  rolls his eyes at him.  _

 

_ “Fine, what do you suggest then?” Eric asks, laughing before letting himself fall down flat against the grass. He is in full stretch , arms crossed behind his head. The only thing he needs is a lonely daisy, he thinks for him to look like a god damm farmer and he wonders how he manages to always get himself in situations like this. _

_ The ground is not soft but not hard either beneath his back, the grass cushioning what should be solid earth. It’s still comfortable in a way. Eric doesn’t know if it’s maybe just Dele being next to him. He stares up into the bright blue sky; there are no clouds, the sun burns down on his face and he wishes he would have taken a snapback with him, just like Dele’s currently wearing on his head.  _

 

_ His legs get hot pretty fast, his black running shorts absorbing the sun’s heat like a blackhole. His torso is covered in a grey cotton shirt, loose and wide on his big frame. He likes it  like this, it’s giving him room to breathe, when the world sometimes doesn’t.  _

 

_ “I was thinking about Anthony.” Dele says shrugging, eyes fixated on the little goat who is standing with its forelegs on Dele’s legging clad thighs, head stretched in the air, mouth close to Dele’s ear as if it likes to tell him a secret. It’s a cute view and Eric presses his palms over his eyes, shielding them from the sun, before sitting back up again, abandoning his comfortable position in order to stare at his friend. _

 

_ “Anthony.’he mimicks Dele’s horrible French accent and snorts.  _

 

_ “What?” Dele asks affronted, before petting the little goat once more.  _

 

_ “You do look like a Anthony, don’t you?” he coos and Eric can’t help but shake his head fondly at the sight.  _

 

_ “What’s he called then?” Eric points his finger at the other goat, staring from the distance. It’s brown with a lot of fluff and Eric is sure the fur is soft, even though the goat is observing them rather carefully and intensely. It seems to be more shy then “Anthony.”  _

 

_ “Jonas,” Dele says without thinking and Eric blinks.  _

 

_ “You really don’t have a talent for naming things, Del.”  _

 

_ “I, for one think that I am brilliant at naming things,” Dele says, looking at Eric with a cocky grin. He’s challenging but lucky for him, Eric always has some receipts against Dele up his sleeve.  _

 

_ “Oh, really?”  _

_ Now it's Erics turn to raise his eyebrow. “Hugo, Fantoke, the horrible name you gave your car? What was it, Lady in black?” Eric counts on his fingers.  _

 

_ “Do I really have to go on?“  _

 

_ “Shut up” Dele laughs and shoves him, so that Eric falls back on the grass again. He starts laughing and soon they are both giggling like mad. Anthony is jumping away by the sudden outburst of noise, while Jonas is still staring unimpressed.  _

_ Eric can’t help but feel so incredibly comfortable, that he wonders what happened. It’s just the two of them two goats and the distant chirping of the crickets on a summer morning.  _

_ The way Dele is smiling at him lets his heart skip a beat and for a moment he gets scared. He’s not sure what it means, so he just shoves the feeling away. _

*

**Did the pressure become too much? Dele Alli (26) returns  to the English Premiere League to his former club, Tottenham Hotspur.After 3 years in the Spanish Capital, where he played a huge role in the winning of the Spanish League title and reaching the semifinals of the Champions League, he is now set to help the English club to get back in the flow of things. After failing to win the title a second time, Mauricio Pochettino is asked to do the most for next season. Can Alli help? The** **_wunderkind_ ** **and heartthrob most definitely is a step in the right direction and might be good for him to escape the pressure of being a genius in the sports department...**

 

“Are they actually serious about what they are writing?” Harry asks incredulously before turning his phone off and laying it beside his plate on the table.

 

“A wunderkind... I can’t believe they’re actually calling him like that. That’s not the Dele  I know.”“. 

 

Eric laughs into his pasta when he hears Harry say this in his driest voice  and he almost manages to distribute the tomato sauce over the whole table. He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth with it before speaking. “This is exactly the Dele we know. A brilliant footballer, born to be England's future.”

 

“But do they have to write it all the time? It’s gonna get to his head. Did you speak to him?”

Eric thinks for a moment, doesn’t know how he should answer. Did he speak to him. He thinks back to the half conversation they had on the phone, but he can’t call  that a conversation.

Did he speak to him since he went to Madrid? The answer would be yes, but Eric knows that it is not what Harry is  asking.

 

“No, I didn’t” is what he eventually settles for.

 

Harry eyes him up for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His blond hair is neatly gelled back as always and Eric wants his own hair to look like that, but it’s still the boring short matt of blond something. He’s accepted it, but he’s still getting annoyed by Harry Kane's bloody hair.

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ve been busy,” Eric shrugs before picking at his food with his fork.

 

It’s their lunch break. They’re almost alone in the cafeteria, the rest of the team already back in business while him and Harry had an extra half an hour of getting themselves something to eat. Somehow Eric managed to get himself  slightly sick from the running he’d done, so he was ordered to keep it simple by only doing light weights for the time being. Harry had injured his ankle  during the last game against Watford, so they both decided to spend their time together with some pasta and a sandwich.

 

“You know that is not really an excuse for not talking to your..” Harry trails off and Eric wonders what he was about to say, his stomach turning unpleasantly.

 

“What I’m trying to say is..  I still managed to keep in contact with him.”

 

“You’ve talked to him ?” Eric says, heart suddenly thumping loudly in his chest.

 

“Well, some calls and some text here and there. He wanted to see pictures of my kids.” 

Harry has some cute kids, Eric has to admit.  Five of them too and Eric wonders how he is managing his life without it being a total mess.

 

“Well, he soon can see them in person.” Eric tries to smile at Harry. He has already had enough of the conversation. The Dele topic does not seem to escape him today.

  
  
  
  
  


“So you’re fine with it. Him returning?” Harry asks, before taking a bite out of his sandwich. 

 

Eric shrugs. He seems to be shrugging a lot these days.

 

“You can say if you’re not fine with it. “Harry presses  and Eric’s mood darkens further. What was supposed to be a nice lunch break has taken a turn  Eric doesn’t  like, not one bit.   _ What is he trying to do? _

 

“He was your best friend. It’s okay to be upset.” 

 

_ Best friend. _

 

Eric let’s out an unattractive sound that almost like a snort but not quite . He hasn’t thought about those words for a long time.

 

“Are you my therapist now?” Eric asks, maybe a bit more aggressive than he plans to , before throwing his fork into his abandoned meal, appetite long gone.

 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two and yes,-- Eric, don’t give me that look-- We both know subtlety is not exactly your strength. From Both of you,” he adds as an afterthought, searching for  Eric’s eyes again.

 

“And I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me about it, whatever it was. All I know is that you both were incredibly happy and then … It was like someone had broken up with you Eric.” 

 

The words hit too close to the truth that Eric has to inhale sharply to keep the words down, which are trying to bubble up his throat. He could talk now, tell Harry everything, but he isn’t sure if he’s ready. He mastered the art of repressing his emotions after all.

 

Eric crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the watch directly positioned over his teammates head, ticking slowly towards the next hour.  _ 1:45 pm _ . It’s almost time for them to get back to training.

 

“There was nothing between us,” Eric finally says, the words coming to  his lips easier than he anticipates. It hurts saying it out loud, but it’s better than saying the truth. That’s what Eric tells himself.  Harry doesn’t look like he believes him, but he doesn’t ask again. Eric is glad about it. He has to deal with it on his own, doesn’t want to drag Harry in it with him. They spend the rest of their lunch in silence.

 

*

 

_ “We’re in love, aren’t we?” Dele says suddenly, body alarmed and his eyes wide. Eric wants to laugh at his expression but he feels himself unable to do so. His words leave a strange taste inside his mouth. It’s not bitter but also something that is not easy to swallow and Eric doesn’t know how to react, so he just nods.  _

 

_ “Jesus,” Dele breathes before burying his head  in his hands. _

 

_ They’re both sitting in the front yard of Dele’s House, cold asphalt underneath them. It’s late evening but the sun is still up, the weather warm,even though it’s only April. Somewhere else in the street, people are having a barbecue and Eric can smell the smoke mixed with the rich spices of the meat. They met for a game of basketball but somehow the day ended with anything else but.  _

 

_ “What are we gonna do?” Dele asks, panic seeping through his voice and Eric should feel insulted, but he knows what Dele is thinking. He’s thinking it too. It’s not easy being attracted to the same gender playing football, nevertheless being in a relationship. Worst of all, being in a relationship with your teammate. There’s a reason why work relationships were frowned upon, when something went wrong it affected everything.  _

 

_ Love was never the plan. _

 

_ “I don’t know,” he shrugs, eyes focused on the ground in front of him. The grey stone sparkles where the sun is hitting it, like a sea of dark glitter, sparks dancing over the surface. It’s pretty, Eric thinks.  _

 

_ “What are we gonna do?“ Dele repeats almost in a whisper, forcing Eric to turn his head and look him in the eyes.  They are  intense and questioning and Eric closes his own .  _

 

_ “We’re not doing anything,” he says, because nothing has  changed. They are still the same. Being in love doesn’t change anything, Eric is convinced of it. _

_ They might be in too deep for each other but it’s still  football and a love like this doesn’t exist. _

_ Dele seems to read his mind or  Eric actually has said it out loud. Eric doesn’t know, thinks it doesn’t matter anyway.  _

 

_ “Maybe it’s time for one,”“ Dele says, he doesn’t sound unsure and Eric feels butterflies in his belly at the words. It’s a strange feeling, anxiety mixed with anticipation. He presses his shoulders closer to Dele’s so that they are brushing against each other. He feels a smile ghosting on his lips.  _

 

_ Yeah , maybe it is time.  _

 

*

 

Scrolling through Twitter or any other social media sites has  never been a good idea, so when Eric does it, he is not surprised that he wants to close the tabs on his laptop straight away. His timeline is spammed with only one topic, the one that has been haunting him for the past week. Eric wonders how everyone can still talk about since the news already broke days ago. He’s tired of it; wants to read about other things.

 

Dele’s face was staring at him from various tweets and it it’s like an accident. Eric can’t stop looking away, because Dele’s face is still mesmerizing. The dark skin, the fine line of his eyebrows, the crooked smile on his lips. The kit he’s wearing is white, almost like his own from Tottenham, but it has the wrong words drawn across it.  Fucking Real, Eric thinks, before closing his laptop for good. 

 

His eyes find his phone lying on the small coffee table in his living room. The heavy grey of his phone almost vanishing in the sea of grey stone underneath it. His thoughts drift back to the conversation over  the phone with Dele once again. He can’t stop thinking about it, can’t get it out of his head, but it’s not as if the conversation had changed things between them. He wonders if he should have called him back when his phone started working again. The next season will come soon enough, is what he thinks. 

It’s already close to being summer and Dele will be here in person in no time. It’s then when they can start talking about things- or not. Eric doesn’t even want to fight, doesn’t want to live in constant agony. 

Maybe he isn’t quite ready to forgive or to forget; but maybe he’s ready to learn to live with it, maybe making the best out of the situation is what he needs.

His hands are itching and when his fingers finally touch the cool metal, his stomach starts turning in anticipation. It’s not a necessary bad feeling but not pleasant either. It’s uncertainty mixed with insecurity, a combination of feelings Eric knows well. He scrolls through his contacts, his thumb hovering over the familiar name. It’s just Dele, no heart no nothing.  Just Dele. He’s not sure if it’s still the right number, but Eric guesses he just has to take his chances. He takes a deep breath before hitting the keys.

 

-Hi  

 

He bites his lips and before he can change his mind, he has sent it. He throws his phone away as if it burns him, before burying his head in his hand. He did not just do this . He feels weak, so fucking weak. He needs a drink. 

 

Because alcohol is not on his diet plan, something less strong has to be it. In his fridge there’s a bottle of Fanta and a bottle of Coke and Eric wonders when the hell he bought this. As soon as he opens the door, he closes it again. 

 

_ What is wrong with him _ . 

 

Three years, it had been three years and he had been fine. But one call and one single rumour had changed it all.

 

He isn’t going to be that person that’s going to have a meltdown over something like this. He’s not pathetic, he tells himself, as he reaches for the chocolate he has secretly stashed inside his cupboard. It‘s hidden behind his porcelain cups, secure and for nobody to know. He never touched it, but today is a different story.

 

Somewhere in his living room his phone chimes, , the sound loud in the quiet  and Eric nearly drops the chocolate and the cup he is holding. 

 

“Shit!” he curses, before scrambling and frantically looking for his phone. When he finds it in between the cushions of his couch, he feels strangely disappointed  to find out that it’s only his mum sending him a text, asking if he wants to come over for dinner tomorrow.

Eric types a short yes as an answer, before leaning himself back, head heavy.

He almost throws his phone away again, when a new message pops up and Eric’s heart rate picks up again.

This time it’s Dele and Eric reads the text over and over again.

It’s his own words thrown back at him. A simple  _ Hi _ , nothing more and nothing less. Eric pictures Dele on the other side, a blinding smile on his lips. He always had the gift of sending his emotions via text and apparently it’s something Eric didn’t unlearn reading  in the past years.  Eric can’t help but smile too. He doesn’t answer but his mood is lifted for the day. It’s a strange feeling and maybe it’s a start for the both of them. 

 

Maybe Eric can deal with it after all.

 

*

 

_ “Fuck, don’t stop..” Eric breathes against Dele’s mouth, his senses drowning him; his body overwhelmed with everything that he is feeling _ _. _ _ He’s currently lying on his bed, Dele on top of him, moving and writhing above him. Deles mouth moves towards Erics neck and he can’t help but moan at the sensation when his teeth graze all his sensitive spots and his grip tightens on his boyfriend’s ass.  _

 

_ He feels Dele’s cock trapped between their stomachs, hot and heavy, while his own  is deeply buried inside his boyfriend. It’s tight and oh so delicious, while Dele is moving on top of him, sending sparks of pleasure through his whole body. It’s intoxicating and Eric’s desperate for every touch of Dele’s delicate hands against his body. Sweat is already pooling on his  forehead and he knows he’s close. He grabs Dele’s hands from his chest before intertwining their fingers and placing them above his head.  _

_ Above him Dele is breathing heavily and an occasional moan leaves his  his lips. His eyes are closed in complete bliss and Eric can’t get enough of this view. His cheeks are flushed with heat, every fiber of his being hot the touch. Normally brash and loud, this Dele is soft and silent. It’s /his/ Dele he reminds himself. He knows his boyfriend is close too, the way his movements become more erratic. Eric moves his hand to grab at Dele’s cock, timing his strokes with the thrust of his hips, while the other one is clinging at Dele’s neck, bringing him down into another hot and open mouthed kiss.  _

 

_ “Fuck , Eric, ” Dele mutters and Eric sees his eyes open in silent shock before they are fluttering closed again and Eric feels the hot liquid coating his fingers.  _

_ The way Dele is squeezing around him and the soft whimper he lets out while Eric is stroking him through his orgasm is bringing him over the edge as well. He feels his stomach and balls tighten as the pleasure rolls over him and he sees stars behind his eyelids. Eric is sure that he blacks out for a moment. _

 

_ When they’re both done, Dele collapses on top of him and Eric immediately puts his arms around his waist. They’re both sweaty and smelly, their skin sticky and cool but Eric doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind that Dele is nearly crushing him, he’s too exhausted anyway.  _

_ He pulls Dele close, while his boyfriend is peppering small kisses along his collarbones, before he rolls  off.  Dele cleans himself off with a shirt lying abandoned on the bedroom floor, before wiping off Eric’s stomach as well. _

 

_ Afterwards they’re facing each other on the bed and Eric gently thumbs at Dele’s brow to wipe the sweat away. He smiles at him when Deles eyes flutter closed, and something warm spreads through his chest. He doesn’t know how someone can look so beautiful. He looks so innocent, Eric thinks even though he knows Dele is anything  but. _

 

_ “I think I’m drunk,” Dele slurs, before placing his arm around  Eric’s chest and burying his head in the crook of  Eric's neck . Eric laughs, stroking through Dele’s dark locks.  _

 

_ “I’m drunk on you. Drunk on your smile. Drunk on your smell. Drunk on love” _

 

_ “ I must have fucked you pretty good, if your brain is that mush.”“ _

 

_ “Nah, it was nothing special,” Dele giggles and Eric tries shove him away from his body, but Dele just tightens his grip.  _

 

_ “Never let me go, Eric.” Dele  whispers and there is something so vulnerable in his voice that Eric feels his heart become heavy. _

 

_ “I won’t,” he says. “I promise.” _

 

*

 

July  comes fast and before Eric can blink training for the new season is underway. Time didn’t stop and time moved on  and now it’s the eighth month of the year. It’s hot even for a summer in England and Eric starts feeling the heat choking him as soon as he makes a step outside. The Premiere League is starting in a few weeks and Eric is pumped for it, missing the adrenaline and the rush of the games. 

 

He misses the competitions, the euphoria when there’s a win, when the fans shout and scream at them and they way they celebrate. 

 

That’s why he can’t help wearing a bright smile when he arrives on the training grounds after the holidays. He and his siblings holidayed in Portugal like they do every year, and Eric had loved every second of it. It’s still his home even though over time, London has become  home as well. Eric often wonders if he has two hearts beating in his chest.

 

Everything is fine and he almost forgets about  _ things,  _ but he gets a painful reminder that everything is going to be different now once he spots  _ him  _ in the parking lot. His smile fades a little and he has to take a deep breath.

 

He’s laughing and smiling in between Danny and Sonny. Hands wildly gesturing as the other two are laughing at something Dele says. It’s a strange picture for Eric to see. Odd- and at the same time so familiar- that Eric feels the urge to look into his calendar to look up the date. He thinks he would never have seen this again and yet everything feels like Dele has never been gone.

 

Eric feels like a coward when he hides behind his Land rRover Defender, waiting until the chatter and laughter disappears.

After their awkward text conversation a few months ago, Eric hadn’t  initiated anymore contact . 

He wonders if he even knows how to talk to Dele still, the silence between them states the opposite, even if it just had been on the phone. It hasn’t mattered years ago, when they  practically fell asleep  with their phones pressed to their ears, silently breathing on each end of the line, and Eric wonders if it will ever be the same. 

 

There has always been this natural chemistry between them, both of them never needing to think,  no awkwardness ever. They just clicked. Maybe that’s why they ended the way they did, maybe that’s why they fell in love. 

 

_ Love.  _

 

The word still leaves a strange taste inside his mouth when he thinks about it and Eric tries to chase the feeling away. This isn’t the time nor the place . He has a new season to concentrate on. He straightens his back before taking his kit bag off the ground and taking a deep breath once again. Maybe he can find Harry. Maybe he can help him avoid Dele.

 

Tough luck _ , _ Eric thinks when he is leaving the changing rooms and sees the whole team practically crushing Dele in their embraces and Eric feels betrayed. He can’t blame them, because they don’t know but he still glares daggers at them.

He doesn’t know what he expected from them. Resentment maybe, a little bit less enthusiasm. It’s not as if  Dele is the first person to ever have left the club and certainly not the only one who’s going to leave Tottenham. 

 

They lost a few players over the years. 

 

Winksy going overseas to join the Bundesliga and Kevin also returning to his former club in Germany . Eric doesn’t think the worst of them  at all, so he doesn’t know why he’s so fucking mad at Dele. 

At least the Belgian boys are still here, Eric is glad. They’re all older  and wiser now- but nonetheless -still idiots. 

There  are a few new faces at the club as well,  _ young _ players,  _ good _ players.  Players who don’t know Dele, don’t know Spurs Dele, don’t know  _ EricandDele. _

 

He spots Max, one of the new ones a little bit offside the training field, observing the grouphug of his teammates. 

 

“Why aren’t you inside the huddle?” Max asks, surprised, motioning towards their teammates, when Eric greets him with a  tousle through his blond hair. He is smaller than him, about two heads and Eric has found a liking to him, taking care of him like a brother.

 

Eric shrugs and crosses his arms in front of his chest but chooses not to answer the question.

 

“Wow. I can’t believe we’re actually gonna play with him.” Max awes with wide eyes and Eric huffs out a laugh. Clueless and enthusiastic youth. Max Meyer, 18 years old is still a baby in Eric's eyes and Eric admires his motivation, even though it is about a topic he tries to avoid.

 

“Weren’t you his best friend?” Max asks further, still staring with wide eyes but not seemingly interested in an answer. 

 

The past tense hurts inside Erics chest and the melancholy of the situation embraces him again. 

 

_ Friends. _

 

Maybe if they’d never kissed, they would still be friends.

 

“Hey!“ Harry shouts and motions them over to the group. 

 

“Eric come on mate, Dele’s here.” 

 

No shit Sherlock, Eric thinks, but  he and Max make their way towards them anyway.

 

Eric feels like he just entered a movie, when the group hug opens and then there’s Dele standing in the middle, a tentative smile on his lips, clad in the familiar Spurs’ uniform with the number 20 printed on his shorts. His hair is a little bit longer now in comparison to when Eric has last seen him. It’s still the same black curls but they are more pronounced. He looks older now too, more mature the way he is holding his body. The long legs and the slim frame of his torso  radiating confidence. The spark of mischievousness can still be seen in his brown eyes and Eric tries very hard to not get lost in them. He wonders if God is playing a prank on him, when the grey clouds open at the sky and the sun breaks through them, throwing a halo and immersing Dele in the soft warm orange and yellow light.

 

Eric just stares, his mouth dry and his throat tight. Harry is nudging him from the side to say something but when no words come out he feels himself enveloped in a strong hug instead. At first he’s not returning it, arms falling limp at his side but when he sees everyone staring at him, he puts his arms around Dele, hugging back. He feels his knees become butter at the touch and he briefly closes his eyes. The familiarity of it all hits him like a bullet and his body is  overwhelmed by the sensations. Dele’s body feels warm and the earthy smell of him hits his nose. There’s a sweet note to it too, something that makes him so undeniably Dele and Eric almost chokes on it. He coughs when it is all getting too much, before gently removing himself . 

 

He’s trying not to look Dele in the eyes, the tension between them tangible in the air. 

 

“Hi“ Dele says, as if they’re in their own world and maybe they are.

 

“Hi” Eric says back. He pushes down the urge to awkwardly wave  because he doesn’t know what he is supposed to do in a situation like this. He’s never been in a situation like this, has never had to meet an ex again, never had to make conversation. But here is the “Hi” again and Eric wants to scream loudly.

 

In the corner of his eye he notices Harry observing them both with a raised eyebrow and Eric knows what he is thinking.  This is not what what's going on here he wants to yell at him but he keeps  his mouth firmly closed.  He has to pull himself together, even if it is just to convince Harry that there’s nothing between him and Dele. The guy might have a good sense for scoring goals, but he was way off in the private matters of someone called Eric Dier. He won’t give him this kind of satisfaction. His eyes drift to Dele’s hands and he spots something colorful sparkling at his wrist. But before he can get a better look,  Dele tucks  his hands behind his back. Eric looks at him surprised and Dele looks back at him with a little shrug.

 

“Alright, guys!” Poch yells from somewhere across the field, his  accent still strong and pronounced. “This is enough! Football now, cuddling later.“

 

In front of him Dele breaks into his signature giggle. 

 

“Oh how I missed this.” Dele says before running off in the direction of the shout before enveloping  the protesting Manager in a warm hug as well.

 

_ How we missed you.  _

  
  


*

 

_ “Do you think things will ever change?” Dele asks, looking thoughtful. They are in a hotel room somewhere in Barcelona, sitting on the balcony, hidden under a sea of blankets to take in the last sun rays of the day.  The smell of salt is heavy in the air and the chatter of the busy streets beneath them is filling up the silence of the evening. _

 

_ “What do you mean?” Eric asks confused, before he spots the object in Dele’s hands. He carefully takes it out of the other man's grip before putting the bracelet on Deles wrist. It’s colourful and made out of threats carefully braided together. It looks like a crafted rainbow and Eric thinks he might know what Dele is talking about. _

 

_ “Where did you get that?”  he asks curiously. _

 

_ “Some girls were selling it outside the beach. You know the one where Sonny and I went to today? I think they said it was for a good cause, so I bought it.” _

 

_ Eric raises an eyebrow in Dele’s direction  because he knows it is not the whole story. The way Dele is avoiding his eyes makes him realise. _

 

_ “I wanted to wear it.” Dele admits quietly. “I saw it and I wanted it. Wanted it around my wrist, just like this.” He picks at the ends of the cord where Eric has tied it around his wrist  and sighs. _

 

_ “I’m tired of constantly wearing a mask, I just want to show that I’m proud of me. Proud of us and our relationship and I want to be myself. I want to wear this bracelet.” _

 

_ “Then do it,” Eric says and he is surprised by his own words.  _

 

_ “I don’t want to give up football,” Dele says and he sounds so sad that Eric wants to wrap him in his arms and  pull him against his chest. _

 

_ “Maybe you wouldn’t have to.” _

 

_ “Do you ever think about it?” Dele asks, “about coming out?”  _

 

_ Eric blinks, trying to organize his thoughts for a moment before giving an answer. Of course he has thought about it but he’s never given much thought about telling the world. He loves living in his own world; his small bubble with only his family and friends. His parents and siblings know about him, know about Dele but they’ve never managed to tell anyone else. Keeping the risk of being found out to a minimum. For exactly that one reason. So they don’t lose the job they love. _

 

_ “I wish it would be easier,” Dele says and Eric takes his hand. “Maybe you should wear it tomorrow, just for us and the team during training,” Eric says, because it’s a step but not the whole thing either.  _

_ Dele shakes his head. “I can’t,”  he says before taking off the bracelet and going back inside the confines of their room. _

 

*

 

Eric doesn’t know how he survives the training, but he manages it without having thoughts constantly nagging him . He’s glad for it. The initial awkwardness between him and Dele had quickly dissolved when they started kicking the ball. 

 

They were placed into different groups for training, so they didn’t see that much of each other anyway and somewhere between wide shots and penalties, Eric  could feel his breaths becoming lighter again. 

Now all  he wants to, is to go home, fall into his bed and sleep for three days straight. He wants to cuddle with his dogs, maybe eat an apple or two. He had missed the sport, but he’s also exhausted.

 

He has to push his plans back when he bumps into Dele on his way out of the dressing room. They both fumble around, first left then right before Eric just takes Dele by the arms and rotates them, so they comfortably change sides.

Eric is almost out of the door, when he hears it. 

 

“I missed you.” It’s quiet but still loud to Eric ears so that he stops in his tracks, before turning around and looking into warm brown eyes. The tension between them returns instantly and Eric’s shoulders stiffen unable to relax. . Eric doesn’t know, can’t define it. It’s just there, hovering between them like a fog, thick and full of smoke,something that he can barely see through. 

 

.

“I missed you.” Dele repeats,  in small and soft voice. Eric wanted to hear these  words for so long, but now that he has heard  them he doesn’t know how to react. There’s one thing that has never changed in the years he’s been on this planet, and that’s his way to work with emotions and to express them. He doesn’t know why it is so difficult for him, but it’s as if  his whole body just shuts down. Unsure of what to do he just nods. Maybe he should say the same   because he does miss him too, has done so for the most part of the last few years. But he has also learned to live with it and the walls he build around him to protect himself were hard work and he doesn’t want them to crumble right away. 

 

The acknowledgement from Eric seems to be enough for Dele because he starts talking again, stepping a little closer towards Dele, but Eric instantly backs away. Dele looks at him, hurt at first but then just sad like he just remembered and runs his hand through his hair. His fingers find his ring on his index finger and he starts fidgeting  with it.  _ He still does it _ , Eric notices. It is a  habit of nervousness and Eric understands. He’s nervous too.

 

“I know that things are weird,” Dele says and motions between them, “But I want to try to be at least friends again?” It sounds like a question and Eric has to digest the words for a moment. 

“I don’t know if i can do this,” Eric answers  honestly because he doesn’t really know. He’s still unsure about any of this, his head hasn’t been clear in months.

 

“Don’t do it for me,” Dele continues hastily before Eric can say anything else. “Do it for the team. We’re here to play football and we always play better when we get along well. When we’re a _ real team _ .” He sounds so pleading and Eric hates the voice he’s chosen because he can’t  say no to it.

 

Eric knows Dele is right and them working together should be the priority always. But the right thing had never been the most easy one to accomplish.  He opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Sonny bursts through the doors of the changing room, wide eyed and hair sticking up in different directions, as if  he has run his hands through it multiple times.

 

“I just realised we’re playing Chelsea for our first game. Does anyone know how to defeat them?”

“I think if we play decent football we can win” Dele answers,  perplexed at Sonny’s sudden outburst and his eyes flicker from Eric to their Asian teammate breathing heavily as if he just ran a mile outside, which he probably  _ had _ .  Sonny gives him a look as if to say : _ Don’t be stupid _ . Dele shrugs and raises an eyebrow before looking back at Eric. 

 

“We could still curse them,”  Eric tells them jokingly as he scratches his beard. It’s getting longer and thicker and he thinks he should probably shave. His eyes meet Dele’s in an unconscious move who is smiling at him and  something flips inside his chest.. 

 

It’s then when he decides. He wants that friendship back. 

 

*

 

_ When he comes home after training one evening, Dele is already sitting on his kitchen table,  smiling as soon  he sees him in view . It doesn’t take long before  Dele has his arms wrapped around him; his  strong and warm body against him and Eric doesn’t regret giving him a key to his house, not for a minute. He breathes in the smell of his cologne, the wooden and earthy scent of his boyfriend. It makes him feel instantly good. Eric doesn’t know if it scares him or not. _

 

_ “I’m sorry you had to do an interview today,” Dele says when they pull apart. _

 

_ “It’s fine,”  Erik says even though it’s not, before he sits himself down on the wooden chair opposite of Dele. He stretches his limbs,  hands  high above his head before yawning.  _

 

_ “It comes with the job right?  There is nothing I can do about it” he explains further, because it is a  truth he has long become to accept. _

 

_ Dele doesn't look convinced but Eric is done talking about it. His eyes fall on something laying on the kitchen table. It is an old book,  heavily  bound in leather with golden letters drawn across it but Eric can't make out the words. _

 

_ “Is this a book?” Eric asks surprised, because he’s not sure if he can trust his eyes.  Dele and books are like fire and water. He is fairly sure that his boyfriend had never opened a book in his short life.  _

 

_ “Yes!“ Dele answers,  pride coloring his voice. _

 

_ “Is it full of pictures?“  _

 

_ Because really, it can’t be filled with actual words. He gets an eyeroll in return and Dele ignores his question.  _

 

_ “This book,”he opens it and shows it to Eric, “is our win against Chelsea.“ _

 

_ “Excuse me?“ Eric thinks he must have misheard.  _

 

_ How on earth would a book be able to help them beat Chelsea?  _

 

_ “Did you steal Antonio Conte's book of strategies? Is it this book?” _

 

_ He tries to take the book from his boyfriend to take a look at it himself. Somehow it wouldn’t surprise him at all. Maybe a little. _

 

_ “What -   No it's a book of magic .” _

 

_ “A - What?" Maybe Spurs Tv is still filming him and this is all a joke. He resists the urge to look around his kitchen to see if there is a hidden camera. _

 

_ “A book of magic." _

 

_ “Yes,  I heard what you said.” Eric coughs a little bit confused. /A book of magic/. _

 

_ “So, a book of Magic,” he lets the words roll off his tongue carefully, “is gonna help us beat Chelsea how exactly?”“ _

 

_ “A spell Eric, it’s gonna help us with a spell.“ Dele says it like it is the most logical thing in the world and Eric feels like he missed something. _

 

_ So he just stares. Since when did good old fashioned tactical football become so useless that magic had to solve things on the pitch for them now?  _

 

_ “Are you sure you are alright?”“  Eric asks because  he  is not sure about his boyfriend’s sanity at the moment. _

 

_ “Would you just look?” Dele walks around the table before standing next to where Eric is sitting. _

_ He lays the book down the table. Open and ready to be read. Eric looks up at  Dele unsure  of what to do next , but soon enough he feels a hand shoving lightly at his head, so he turns to look at the book. _

 

_ There’s  a picture of two men fighting with swords. It’s painted in black and green and Eric has to admit that it is a pretty illustration. He lets his eyes wander, finding the title of the chapter. _

 

_ “A winning streak,” he reads out loud and goes on to the “Ingredients”. He mentally restrains himself from sighing. No matter how ridiculous all of this is, it seems to be important to Dele and he isn’t an asshole. The text is written in old English letters, elegant and curved  and Eric has problems to identify single words. Apparently beating Chelsea involves cemeteries, a lock of horse hair (?) a horseshoe, (Okay, Eric can get behind this. Horse shoes are known for bringing luck) and apparently a full moon and something of the person you wanted to win against. Eric doesn’t feel any smarter than before about the situation. _

 

_ “I’m still lost,” “ he admits, because for one, magic doesn’t exist and for two what does Dele want from him? _

 

_ “We are going to do this spell and then we are going to beat Chelsea on Saturday.” Dele tells him, as if he can read Eric’s mind. _

 

_ “Did you ask the gaffer for permission?” Eric blurts out, because he can’t help himself. The look his boyfriend shoots him says everything and yeah he should have known that something like this would not be on the gaffer’s radar. It’s not like he would believe them anyway. Eric tries to remind himself that he doesn’t believe in things like that as well. _

 

_ “I didn’t know you believed in magic.”  _

 

_ He hopes it doesn’t come out like an accusation, just a genuine question he asks himself. Dele sighs and squeezes himself in between the table and onto Eric's lap. His long limbs make it difficult and Eric may  or may  not get Dele’s elbow pushed into his stomach, their knees bumping. Eric immediately puts his arms around him to calm him, hands intertwining on Dele’s stomach. _

 

_ “I don’t know.” Dele  says, sounding thoughtful.  _

 

_ “I just really want to win this match. Chelsea is hot for the title, but i want to win it too. After last year…” he trails off  and Eric knows what he means. Last year had been hard on them. Hard on the whole team. They had been so close to taking home the trophy but in the end Leicester was the lucky one,  leaving the Spurs only in the top three. This year would be different.   Eric knows Dele feels guilty because he missed the last three key games of the season. So Eric squeezes his hands. _

 

_ “You know it was not your fault right?” he whispers in between Dele’s shoulder blades, where he rests his head against. He hears him take a deep breath but Dele doesn’t answer his question.  _

 

_ “Anyway, so I found this book by accident,”“ Dele changes the topic, trying to sound enthusiastic but Eric hears the slight tremble in his voice,  so he hooks his head on Dele’s shoulder and leaves featherlight kisses on the  nape of his neck. _

 

_ By accident. Eric doesn’t believe this at all. _

 

_ ”And i thought, what can really go wrong right? It is worth a try.“  _

 

_ Eric could name a million reasons how this  could go wrong, but he doesn’t.  _

 

_ “Okay.” is what he says instead after a moment of thinking. Because if this is the only thing that can make his boyfriend happy,  he is not going to deny him this opportunity. Even if it involves magic. _

 

_ “Okay?” Dele turns in his lap and stares at him with bright eyes. And seriously how can anyone resist this face. Eric accepted the fact long ago that he couldn’t. _

 

_ “Okay.” he repeats this time more determined with a small smile ghosting on his lips. _

_ They have made a deal. Eric seals it with a kiss.  _

 

_ As soon as Eric sets foot on Highgate London cemetery he regrets all his life choices that got him up into this situation.  _

 

_ He curses Dele for being so irresistible and God for not making him straight enough, so he could have fallen for the cute barista lady working in his starbucks instead. _

_ He feels like a bank robber, clothes in all black, beanie on top of his head as he makes his way through the grave stones and dead people. Eric shudders when he thinks about it. _

 

_ He isn’t the type of man to get scared that easily, but it is way past midnight and dark, so dark that Eric has problems making out anything in front of him. He tries not to trip over branches and stones on the ground. If he ends up injured for the game on saturday, not even magic could help them then. The cemetery is not lit up like the streets of London normally are and he thinks that this is how horror films normally start. He can't shake off the feeling that they shouldn't be here, shouldn't be wandering off in the middle of the night on a cemetery during a full moon. It’s quiet even though London is a city that never sleeps, Eric knows that. It’s quite similar to Lisbon where he spent most of his life. Sometimes he misses it, he misses the weather. He wants sun and warmth, the cold making him frustrated. Sometimes Eric still feels like a foreigner, even though he has everything here what would make him call London his home. _

 

_ Eric isn't known for being superstitious unlike some of his teammates, but he is sure they are going to end up dead -or worse- arrested. After all, they  are here to do magic. The night air is cold and smells like rain, but the sky is clear, only a few stars brightening the night. He thinks he should have packed another jumper, the light jacket he is wearing only shields him from curious glances but not from the wind that is blowing. _

 

_ He feels cold fingers slipping through his own ones and a kiss on his cheek. Dele looks exactly like him, dressed in dark attire holding a bag in his other hand. They probably contain the other ingredients for their adventure.  He doesn’t want to ask. Eric still can’t  believe that they are really doing this . _

 

_ “I always wanted to do this,” Dele says as they walk.  _

 

_ “Performing a ritual in a graveyard ?” Eric asks confused, because he expected something less scary from a man who got nightmares from watching Finding Nemo. Not that it was something to be ashamed of anyway.  _

 

_ “No, Diet,” he huffs out a laugh before he gets serious again. “This”  Dele gives their intertwined hands a squeeze and Eric realises what he actually means. Eric feels something drop inside his stomach.  _

 

_ “Yeah, it is nice , isn’t it?”  He says, throat suddenly tight.  _

 

_ For the first time Eric realises  that they are holding hands in public. It hits him that they have never done this before and he doesn’t know how much he actually missed doing something so normal. With his first girlfriend it was never a problem, the hand holding came with the kisses and the love came with their dates in Cafés. With Dele everything is different. It’s exciting and comforting but sometimes Eric feels that there is a third party present in their relationship. There are no walks in parks, only stolen kisses in the locker room. When they are at their houses they are themselves. The rest of the day they’re wearing masks.  _

_ It’s not the most romantic setting in the universe, but it is 1 am on a monday night on London highgate cemetery and it somehow feels right. If this is the only way they can be normal, he is not gonna let go. He squeezes Deles hand in silent affirmation that he feels it too. They don’t talk the rest of the way, but no one needs too.  _

 

_ “So this is it,” Eric says and stares at the monument in front of them. It made out of stone, probably older than his grandparents. The white texture glows under the moonlight and Eric wonders what it would be like to be buried here. He is still not sure if they will get out of this alive. It feels like they have just entered a war zone, even though it is not and it is just a magic ritual they are going to do. . The ground is splattered with dirt and grass that was green once. Eric is glad that the graveyard is empty and it is just him and Dele. The way the bright light of the moon illuminates them is not something Eric wants to explain to anyone. Dele untangles their fingers and Eric instantly feels the loss . He buries his own  deep inside his jacket, for warmth . He watches his boyfriend unpack the things they brought with them and how he places them on the ground below them. Eric thinks he has seen prettier arranged things. There is a golden horseshoe and a golden lock of hair. The last thing is  a blue jersey with the number ten printed on it. Eden Hazard's Jersey. If his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, it looks like it is signed as well. _

 

_ “Where did you get that?” Eric asks curiously because he doubts Eden Hazard would give him  a signed jersey and he is sure Dele didn’t go to get signed himself. He doesn’t ask about the horseshoe and the hair, because he is sure it’s not something he wants to know. _

 

_ “Oh well, yeah I asked Toby to get it for me?” Dele  says like it is no big deal and maybe it isn’t. “You know they are friends or know each other because of the Belgium national team and all.” He waves it off before kneeling back on the ground and inspecting the items and rearranging them. _

 

_ Eric nods because it sounds plausible.  _

 

_ “Wait - What did you tell Toby? Does he know about our little adventure?” Adventure. The word still doesn’t sound right. _

 

_ “Oh yeah about that ….” Dele looks sheepishly at him and Eric narrows his eyes because he knows Dele and he doesn’t like that look.  _

 

_ “I might have told him it is for you , because you are a big fan of Hazard and you adore him?” _

 

_ “You did what?” _

 

_ “I panicked.” They both know it is a lie. _

 

_ Eric sighs. “ Alright Dell-stroyer. I’m gonna get back at you for this. Just so you wait.” He points his fingers at him threateningly. Maybe he will make him wear it in bed. _

 

_ “And now do your Magic mojo spell potion thing. It’s getting cold.” He really should have packed another sweater. _

 

_ Dele opens the book and searches for the right page, while Eric is keeping their surroundings in check. They are still alone with thousands of dead souls. If they would be caught by anyone Eric would have to go back to Portugal, where no one knows about London.  If there was an award for best boyfriend alive, he deserved it.   _

 

_ /The things you do for the people you love./ _

 

_ He silently shakes his head, amazed by himself when he suddenly  feels something pressed into his hand. It’s the old spellbook. _

 

_ “So now read this passage,” Dele demands in a whisper before pointing out the sentences. _

 

_ “Why do I have to read this? “ Eric asks confused because he is not ready for anything other than waiting and silently observing.  _

 

_ “You can also do the dance,” Dele says shrugging trying to take the book back but Eric presses it protectively against his chest.  DANCE? He was not going to do a dance.  _

 

_ “Also, it is in Portuguese and I don’t speak Portuguese.” _

_ Eric doubts it is actually written in Portuguese. _

 

_ “No, it’s fine. I’m gonna read, you do your dance. “ _

 

_ Eric clears his throat, but before he can try and read out the words, Dele stops him.  _

 

_ “Wait.” _

 

_ He kisses him on the lips, it is slow and intense , leaving  Eric breathless and dizzy. _

 

_ “Thank you  for doing this with me.” It sounds sincere and Eric knows that it must have taken Dele a whole lot of trust to even propose this idea and he hopes that Dele knows that Eric trusts him. _

_ “Don’t thank me yet,” Eric says before turning back to the book. _

 

_ When he sees  what he has to read, he silently wonders if his boyfriend has ever actually seen written Portuguese or any other language besides English. Dele, that stupid boy did that on purpose. He cleares his throat for the second time that night and begins reading the words as carefully as he can.  _

 

_ Tsiewb nennök nies ekräts erhaw hcrud red eginejred run driw negeis. Nehculfrev rebles hcis erlfärk nelknud eud hcrud driw neffahcsrev uz lietrov nenie eigam hcrud hcis thcusrev red, redej. _

 

_ Reading those words proves to be much more difficult than Eric has anticipated. Actually he isn’t  even sure if those are real words at all. It is  even harder to read  when Eric sees the twenty  year old running around like a toddler and doing what looks like bird impressions. It’s hard to keep a straight face at that. _

 

_ After a few moments of observation and simultaneously reading invented words, he can’t take it anymore. The laughter bubbles out of his lips before he can stop it. Before he knows it he is full on laughing. It’s resounding and loud and he knows Dele his staring at him in disbelief. But Eric can’t stop.The whole situation is just so ridiculous. _

_ Breathing becomes harder and harder the more he laughs and his rips start hurting. It doesn’t even take seconds before he is laying on the ground, book and the spell forgotten. The grass is wet and cold and hard beneath him. He grins up at Dele and it doesn’t take long for his boyfriend to join him in breathless giggles.  _

_ “ I can’t believe we really did that.”  Dele gets out between gasps and Eric laughs some more Dele looks at him with flushed cheeks from the laughter and the cold. His skin is glowing under the moonlight and Eric wants to kiss him. So he does. Their lips meet, it’s slow at first but Eric wants more. When he feels Dele tongue tracing his bottom lip he all but complies, opening his mouth inviting. Eric pulls Dele down with him and then it's cold fingertips on warm skin. Eric can’t feel the cold anymore, it’s all Dele now, his breath, his body, his lips. _

 

_ “Willy I’m telling ya!  There are people,  I don't know what they’re doin’,  but I heard them laugh.” _

_ Eric and Dele break apart when they hear the voices and they are painfully reminded of where they are. _

 

_ “Do you think that are those grave robbers?” _

_ “ _

_ “Grave robbers?”Eric mouths silently at Dele, who is frozen on top of him. _

 

_ “We should call the police.”   A deeper voice says and well, if that isn’t what Eric feared in the first place. They have to leave this place as soon as possible.  _

 

_ Dele seems to think the same thing because he is already up on his feet,  tugging at Eric's wrist to pull him up and then they are running, leaving everything behind. Eric hopes those things won’t come back to them and bite them in the ass.  _

 

_ They do of course, but Eric is surprisingly fine with it. _

 

_ * _

 

They start talking again. First ,it’s only small hellos and greetings when they see each other in training, then it expands to telling each other things about their day. It’s nothing groundbreaking or intimate, just small talk. It’s still weird sometimes, Eric thinks, their natural chemistry still not back. He knows it’s mostly his own fault, he still hasn’t made complete peace with it, but Eric is trying. He tries to get the tension out of his shoulders whenever he sees Dele and he tries acting like there isn’t this big dark shadow hanging over them.

 

Eric thinks it’s going great so far and maybe they really can be friends again. It’s still a long way to go, but they are at least on the right track. 

 

“If I manage to throw this paper towel into the bin, first try, you gonna have to go shopping with me!”

 

“Huh?” Eric looks up from his phone where he’s seated in the hotel at Hotspur-way.  _ Shopping?  _

 

“Dier, look! watch the Master.” Dele giggles before getting himself into position. One arm close to his head he looks like a basketball player ready to hit three  points. They have some free time to kill in between sessions and Eric and Dele made themselves comfortable in two of the armchairs available in the lobby, waiting for the next training session to begin. It’s the first time they are completely alone again.

 

“This one is going to  be just one of the long list of misses you got going on, Dellboy.” Eric teases and Dele is looking at him affronted.

 

“Oh it’s on. Watch me put this thing in perfectly.” He bites his lip in concentration as he focuses to get the scrunched paper towel into the metallic waste holder that is about five  meters away from them.

 

Eric breaks out into laughter, when the paper misses the bin by half a meter. 

 

“If you think you can do it better, then show me better.”  Dele challenges and breaks into a grin.

Eric doesn’t need to be told twice, he takes a water bottle from the table in the middle of the room and throws. Misses. 

 

“This was even worse than mine Diet” Dele huffs, holding his ribs in silent laughter.

 

“Alright. Best of three wins.” 

 

And Eric has to admit it feels good, joking like this  with Dele again.

 

“You’re on!”

 

Somehow Dele manages to get all three tries into the bin and Eric feels cheated. He gapes at him and Dele starts giggling again. 

 

“Mate, your face.” 

 

Eric shoots him a look, tries to stay angry but he just can’t .

 

“Looks like someone has to go shopping with me,” Dele  sing songs, leaning towards Eric  with a smile, breath ghosting against his cheek and Eric feels the familiar shudder run through him, the one he has always felt at their closeness. He tries to ignore it.

 

“Ugh. Why shopping?” he complains, because he loathes it. He hates shopping with a passion that exceeds even his aversion for spurs TV.

 

“Well, I need new clothes,” Dele says shrugging, but Eric knows that look, the way Dele is avoiding his eyes makes Eric suspicious.

 

“But why do you want to go shopping with  _ me _ ?” and just like that the tension between them returns, the mood sobering up pretty quickly.

 

Dele is silent for a moment. 

“I told you I wanted to be friends again. And friends to things like that.  _ We _ used to do stuff like that. After everything that happened I just wanted it to be like that just for one day.”

 

Dele looks at him carefully, hands fiddling with the arms of his purple spurs sweatshirt, pulling the fabric over his thumbs.

 

“I just.. Eric you were not the only one that lost someone. I lost my best friend too, you know. I didn't have anyone to talk about it either. I wanted to talk to  _ you _ .” 

 

It’s honest and Eric suddenly becomes aware of it. The words sting, because Eric should  _ know _ , should have realised that he wasn’t the only one getting hurt. He doesn’t know what to say, so he coughs awkwardly and tries to change the topic.

 

“Don’t get me lost again.” he warns pointing a finger at Dele whose features light up with a smile again. 

 

“Excuse me, but it was not  _ me _ who got us lost.” 

 

“You tell yourself that,” Eric says raising his eyebrow.

 

“I won’t” Dele promises and waves his phone at Eric. “ I have google maps.” 

 

_ * _

 

_ “I’m going to Madrid.”  _

 

_ It’s all Dele says and all it takes for Eric’s heart to break into million pieces.  _

 

_ “For a holiday?” Eric tries to joke, but it falls flat. The look on Dele’s face tells him everything. Eric loves that he can read him like a book, likes that he’s so open and honest with his eyes even when he’s telling him stories that are obviously just tales. But today he wishes he couldn’t. He sees the determination and the vulnerability of a boy who made a decision for his career. _

 

_ “I… I talked to my agent and yeah,” he trails off, he’s looking directly at Eric, but Eric is avoiding his eyes. “They want me, Eric. Real Madrid want /me/.” He sounds excited and every word feels like a stab with a knife in his gut. Eric is sure he’s bleeding already all over his white carpet, the white fluff slowly colouring itself in red like he dropped a glass of wine on it after dinner. However,  when he looks there is nothing. It’s still white and Eric’s skin starts to feel numb.  _

_ It’s something he never thought about but always feared and yet he still knew. He knew Dele would not stay in London forever, his talent too big for one country and great to be hidden from the other leagues in the world. But the confirmation of him going so soon hits him like a wave crashing on him like ice cold water, the salt burning in his wounds.  It’s a big chunk of information for him to swallow and it’s stuck in his throat.  _

 

_ “When?” he croaks out,  body still numb. _

 

_ “August.”  _

 

_ It’s six  months they have left, but Eric thinks it’s not even a day. _

 

_ “I’m proud of you,” is what he says and /Don’t go/ is what he thinks. “We can do this.” He gets out trying to sound convincing. He wants them to do this. Wants their relationship to continue . He  tries to smile at Dele, wants to be supportive. It’s weak but it’s there.  _

 

_ When Dele throws himself into his arms, there is no reason to stop the tears anymore and he holds on as tight as he can. _

 

_ * _

 

They do get lost and Eric is surprised that he’s not really surprised at all.

He’s been living in London for nearly a decade now and yet the streets and the way the city is built is not cooperating with his brain. 

He has no clue where they are and next to him Dele is looking just as confused as him. 

 

“How did we manage to get lost again?” Eric asks, throwing his hands up in the air in silent resignation.

 

“I don’t even know if we are still in London.” Dele says before showing Eric the screen of his phone. “My phone doesn’t either.” 

 

They’re in a small street long and narrow , the roads covered with cobblestones and not asphalt. It reminds Eric of the roads   in certain villages of Portugal. It’s not busy, Eric notices, him and Dele the only ones walking on the sideway. They are accompanied by various houses neatly arranged next to each other. Small front gardens with wooden fences and flowers that shouldn’t be blossoming at his time of the year. It’s almost winter and the weather in England is getting worse by the minute. They’re glad that it isn’t raining today, but Eric is still clad in a dark warm jacket while Dele is dressed as if  there’ll be a snowfall in the next hour. His jacket is dirty green and with a furry hood. Eric suspects it’s from Gucci or anything designer really. He doesn’t keep up with the fashion but he sure knows Dele does. Or  _ did _ . He wonders if Dele has changed at all. 

There are no shops or even little Cafés close to them as they wander along the streets.

Eric has never seen this part of London before. The sun is slowly setting , tinting the sky in a warm orangey colour,  the clouds appearing pink. The air smells like food, as if  someone is cooking with the windows open and Eric’s stomach rumbles at the scent.

 

“Someone’s hungry,” Dele says and Eric rolls his eyes. “I think we have more important matters at hand than thinking about food.” Eric reminds him that they are still lost, somewhere in London and they do have to find a way back or at least some phone signal.

 

“Oh come on let’s find some food,” Dele says, ignoring Eric before leading the way. Eric wants to protest but he’s also very hungry and he’s proven to be better at thinking when his stomach is full, so he follows him.

 

It’s something Eric always admired about Dele. His carefreeness about everything. No matter what difficult situation they’d be in Dele somehow always remained positive, knowing they would get out of it eventually.

 

It’s not like he doesn’t care about about things,  Eric knows Dele can be just as bad as him about worrying about things, but in a situation like this it seems like there’s nothing to worry about. 

 

They end up finding a small bistro, a few streets further on that sells bland english sandwiches and a variation of puddings.

“God, how I missed this,“ Dele moans around a mouthful of food. It’s disgusting but Eric has never seen someone so passionate about food. He wonders if Dele ever learned to cook after all.

 

“Don’t they sell good food in Spain?“ Eric wonders, taking a bite from his own food. It’s nothing mind blowing and it lacks flavor.

Dele pauses, chewing slightly before answering. 

 

“They have great food but I don’t know. It’s not the same“ 

 

_ It’s not home.  _

 

“I guess you always start loving things the most, you know you can’t have.”  Dele pauses and stares right into Eric’s  eyes. It’s intense and Eric is not sure if Dele is still talking about the food, but he doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he definitely doesn’t want to have. His fingers pick at his own food, hunger suddenly gone. 

 

“I miss  Portuguese food.” is what he settles on and their conversation drifts off into already discovered territory. It’s safe and Eric feels safe right now with Dele. He wonders if their friendship might really have a chance.

 

_ * _

 

_ “Dele, I hope I am not seeing what I think I’m seeing,”  Eric warns though the phone screen while he is facetiming Dele. _

 

_ “I did everything you said.’ Dele pouts and it's adorable and Eric would have been more than happy to  just stare at his boyfriend and kiss the pout from his lips if he wasn’t currently 10667 miles away and standing in the kitchen. There’s  suspicious black smoke coming from one of the pots on the stove and Eric almost physically feels the burn in his eyes. _

 

_ “This really doesn't look right babe,’“ he tries again and on the other side Dele curses underneath his breath. _

 

_ “It doesn’t smell good either.” Dele frowns and before Eric can ask what exactly is wrong, the call is disconnected. _

 

_ Eric stares at his phone in silent amusement before it is replaced with concern. He dials the number again hoping nothing too bad had happened and the apartment is still standing.  _

 

_ Dele and cooking has always been an adventure and Eric had sacrificed himself to teach him but it turns out that this is way more difficult  to accomplish over the phone than it would be in person. Time spent together is limited so they have to do the best with  it. _

 

_ The next time they could physically see each other would be  a few months and Eric can’t wait. He misses him like crazy. It’s like he’s got this constant itch underneath his skin and in his heart, screaming loudly for Dele to come back. He misses their secret touches and and the warm body next to him drooling on his shoulder when they watch tv together. He misses the hot and heavy nights full of passion and the whispered  conversations afterwards. He just wants Dele back in his arms, but he has to wait and so he does. Facetiming and talking helps, but it’s not the same Eric notices pretty fast. _

 

_ Dele takes up the phone after the second ring, sounding breathless like he just ran a marathon.  _

 

_ “ Hi” _

 

_ “Everything alright?” Eric asks concerned. _

 

_ “Everything’s brilliant.” _

 

_ “What about the fish?” _

 

_ “ Uhhh, not so brilliant. I had to throw it away.” _

 

_ Eric has to chuckle at that, even though it is quite sad. “Looked like it burned quite a lot.” _

 

_ “It did and not only the fish. I think the veggies are-- Uh I don’t even know what they exactly are.”  _

 

_ Eric imagines how Dele’s contorting his face in disgust and he feels empathy for his boyfriend. There were  few worse things than having burned food. _

 

_ “Did you follow  the recipe?” _

 

_ “I followed all your instructions. I think I’m hopeless. I guess beans on toast for the rest of my life doesn’t sound too bad.” _

 

_ “You are a Dell-stroyer in the literal sense of the word. Even the food is not safe.“  Eric laughs and he knows that Dele is sticking his tongue out at him.  _

 

_ * _

 

With the increasing talks the touches come back. It’s weird at first but soon it’s normal again. Football has always been a contact sport and they’re bound to be touching again in some way, but it’s not during a game when Eric notices.

 

They lose their last game of the year at home in their new stadium and it hits Eric hard, harder than he expects it.  He’s not fond of losing but neither is anyone he knows but he feels responsible for it.

 

The only goal they conceded and consequently the winner for the guests had been on him. If his left foot didn’t grace the ball Hugo would have been able to hold it. It was an own goal that could have been easily avoided.

 

He isn’t proud of himself but it leaves a nick inside his self confidence. He’s been a professional football player since he barely reached adulthood and he knows he should be able to cope by now but it’s a setback and Eric just doesn’t do setbacks. 

 

When the game is over he leaves the locker room wordlessly, not in the mood to talk to anyone any longer, doesn’t dare to look anyone in the eye, afraid of what he might see. 

He knows no one's going to make him responsible for their loss but it’s enough when Eric is drowning in himself alone. 

He wants to grieve, wants to grieve in silence, maybe punch something that is not his own stupidity. 

 

He doesn’t get the chance. 

 

“Eric, wait!“ and  _ dammit Dele _ , Eric thinks when he hears the familiar voice of his teammate. After all this years Dele should know when to leave him alone.

He really isn’t up for company at the moment. He decides to ignore him and just walk on, maybe he will get the point. But Dele isn’t a person to just give up, Erik knows. He hopes that it’s still going to work.

 

“Eric!” “

 

He sighs and finally stops in his tracks, turning around to face a red faced Dele. His jacket looks like he just pulled it on in a hurry, which he probably had. There’s still some water glistening on his forehead, his hair still wet from the shower. 

 

“Go back inside, Dele,” Eric says   not having the energy for anything else. “You are going to catch a cold.”

 

He turns back again, starting to walk away when a hand touches his wrist holding him back. It’s a light touch but it burns into Eric’s skin like hot lava and he pulls his hand back.

 

“What do you want?” “he asks his mood slowly becoming darker. 

 

“Where’s your car?“ Dele asks ignoring Eric and the older one just blinks irritated. He points his finger in a vague direction and before he can protest Dele is marching towards his Land Rover . 

 

He holds his hands out expectantly, eyebrows raised in such a Dele way that Eric doesn’t even have the chance to resist and give him his car keys. 

Dele won’t leave until he gives them to him anyway so he’s just choosing the easier option, he tries to convince himself.

 

“It’s not your fault.“ Dele breaks the silence when they’re on the highway and when Eric doesn’t say anything in return, he just keeps on talking. He staring out of the window, concentrating on the trees they are passing. It’s almost impossible to see much but it’s better than to see it all, to see the disappointment in Deles eyes.

 

“Remember what you used to tell me when I got that three game ban and we lost the league that year?“ Dele looks away from the street and to Eric.

 

“You told me that it’s not my fault that we didn’t win.” He continues. “You told me it’s not my fault. I was responsible for the ban and yes that was incredibly stupid, but I’m not responsible for everything and neither are you.” He pauses for a moment, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Football is still a team sport. You made a mistake, but we still didn’t manage to score. It was not your fault that we lost.” 

 

“Since when did you become so wise?“ Eric chokes out. It’s a weak attempt at teasing and he feels his eyes burning. 

 

“I grew up too,” is what Dele answers. It’s cryptic and it isn’t for the first time that Eric wonders how they ended up like this.

 

“We’re here,” Dele says when they reach Eric’s House and he stops the car.  

 

“Thanks.” Eric says but neither of them make any move to get out of the car. 

 

“Uhh. This is your car.” Dele states and yes, Eric knows that. He sighs, because really, he doesn’t have any other choice.

 

“Do you want to come inside?” It sounds like a bad pick up line after a date and Eric cringes internally. Every other day in the past he wouldn’t have minded saying something like this, especially not to Dele. He had always wanted for him to come inside his home and body. But they still aren’t at a point where Eric feels completely comfortable. There are still so many things they haven’t discussed, haven’t even touched on since Dele has been  back in London and Eric is not sure he wants all of that today. He wants to take the words back, but he smiles at Dele because maybe he wants the words to be out in the open after all. He doesn’t know, doesn’t know if he knows anything.

 

“If that’s okay for you?” Dele asks, chewing his lips. Eric nods before getting out of the car and inside his house.

 

“You can sleep in the guest room.” Eric says and that’s that.

 

Eric can’t sleep. He’s lying in his bed and staring at his ceiling. The light of the moon is shining through his white curtains, lighting the up his bedroom. His mind is full of thoughts. He’s still thinking about the game, about Dele in the room next to him. It’s odd having him near him but not in his room. They both have to get up early tomorrow and Eric has to sleep. He rubs his hands over his eyes and sighs, willing himself to sleep.

When he thinks he’s almost there, he hears a faint knock on his bedroom door. Eric’s eyes blink open and he sits up in his bed leaning against the wooden back of his bed and turning on the little lamp on his bedside table.

 

“Come in.” he croaks out, his voice still throaty. He looks at his watch. 02:02 am.

 

The door opens with a quiet creak and then Dele is standing in his room, right in front of his bed. He’s dressed in some grey sweatpants, Eric gave him earlier    and a white t-shirt with some graphics printed on it. It’s Eric's shirt as well and the sight of Dele in his own clothes makes his heart beat faster and his skin prickle. He feels weakly exposed when he realises that he himself  is not wearing anything but his boxers, so he pulls his blankets closer to his chest. 

 

“Can’t sleep?” Eric asks and Dele nods.

 

He sighs before wordlessly tapping the space on his left and lifting his blanket, so Dele can slide underneath it.

 

They’ve done it before, sleeping in the same bed when they were friends. Always finding it easier to rest in the comfort of each other. Maybe this would help Eric as well to just forget his thoughts and he could get a good night's sleep.

 

Dele takes the invitation thankfully and after some fumbling with the covers he’s nestled comfortably at Eric's left. He feels the warmth of the body and the way Dele is breathing in and out. He doesn’t dare take a breath himself. When he feels Dele’s hand run along the bare skin of his arms until it finds his hand, he tenses and then relaxes immediately and let’s their fingers intertwine. Deles other arm is drawn across his stomach, pulling him in an awkward hug, face resting next to Eric’s, eyes fixated on him.

 

For a moment Eric just lets himself have it, lets himself be the one he was all those years ago. He feels whole again and yet more broken than ever being stuck in the past and lost in the future. He wants to have it both but maybe it’s just not on the table.

 

_ Not anymore.  _

 

He feels Dele pull him closer and Eric allows it, allows the touch of the warm protective arms around him. It’s too late when he realizes that what he’s feeling is not about the lost game anymore but everything else he has lost along the way.

 

_ * _

 

_ Eric is nervous. His heart is pounding and his limbs are shaking. He’s sitting in his car, fingers anxiously threaded together. It’s been five minutes and he still hasn’t moved or anything really to get out of the car and to meet his international teammates.  _

_ He’s not sure if he wants to. No, he really wants to, but Dele’s coming too.  _

_ It’s gonna be their first time seeing each other again, after they departed in summer. It’s not been a long time, but Eric is nervous. Nervous of what he might do. He wants to hug Dele, wants to press him close and against his lips. He wants to kiss the spanish language away from his mouth.  _

_ He wonders if his boyfriend would smell different, if the air in Madrid made his skin drier or softer. He just wants to feel him, all of him in and around his body.  _

 

_ His mother always used to say that the country you live in influences you as a person, the way Portugal made him different in a way that England couldn’t. He wonders if it’s the same for Dele.  _

_ Eric presses his head against the back of his seat, closing his eyes, breathing in deeply.  _

_ His car still has the new bought smell, heavy and penetrant. His sister presses for him to buy some sort of perfume to make it smell tolerable, but Eric is fine with the smell and he isn’t a fan of all the flowery stuff one could buy in a supermarket.  _

 

_ He sighs before drying his sweaty hands on his jeans. They would all get their England gear inside the hotel they are meeting at, dressing themselves in the typical Nike kit  of for the country.  _

_ Eric opens the door with a heavy feeling inside his stomach, before making his way towards the entrance of the hotel. It’s already dark outside, a small breeze swishing through his hair. He shudders and wraps   his own arms against his body while making his way through the other cars parked in the parking lot. He tells himself he’s not nervous, just happy, but he knows something feels  wrong . _

 

_ Inside he’s greeted with loud chatter and a camera that’s pushed in  his face. The man holding it apologizes quickly and Eric manages a small smile. It’s weak and his stomach is already turning again.  _

_ He’s not a fan of the heavy publicized international breaks, knows that it’s part of the job representing his country and playing football, but sometimes he wishes it would be just that. Him and the ball, far away from the rest of the world. The lobby of the hotel is bright and lit up by the light of what feels like 100 different lamps. There are several grey sofas aligned in a small circle, some of his teammates already sitting on them. There are some of the Arsenal and Manchester boys chatting animatedly but Eric can only hear bits and pieces, not enough to make out the topic of the conversation.  _

 

_ The floor is dark and wooden like the walls around him. It’s a comfortable in a way, a warm and familiar atmosphere. In front of the reception Gareth Southgate is waiting, dressed in a dark blue suit, smiling when he spots him, stretching out his large hand to greet Eric. _

 

_ “Nice to see you, Eric. You’re going to get all your information once everyone has arrived.” _

 

_ Eric takes it respectfully and nods in return.  _

 

_ “The guys from the international leagues are going to arrive soon, so make yourself comfortable.”  At these words his heart starts accelerating again, he’s gonna see Dele soon.  _

 

_ Calls and video chats do not always cut it, so Eric is more than happy to have him by his side again, even if it’s just for a week. They won’t have much time together, preparations for the European qualification will take up most of the time, but Eric is sure just having him near him physically will  be enough for the time being. It’s what he hopes anyway. _

 

_ Eric takes his luggage, walking over to the seating area. He finds an empty seat in between his Tottenham teammates Harry Kane and Kyle Walker. They haven’t changed much since he last saw them, which was twenty three hours ago. _

 

_ “Eric,” Harry Kane greets him with a simple handshake which he returns before briefly exchanging a hug with  Kyle. They’re both dressed in simple jeans and t-shirts, nothing out of the ordinary. _

 

_ “You excited?” Kyle asks and for a moment Eric doesn’t know what he means, until it dawns on him. When Eric doesn’t say anything , Harry takes over.  _

 

_ “Dele’s gonna be here soon, I bet you’re happy too see him.“ Eric smiles involuntarily at hearing Dele’s name but swallows his feelings at the same time.  _

 

_ They couldn’t know could they? Even though they weren’t exactly subtle what was going on between them, they didn’t tell anyone either. The way they displayed their relationship didn’t really differ from their friendship anyway. Eric supposes they’ve always just been EricandDele. Still, he can’t help at getting paranoid. It is difficult enough for them to handle it and keep it behind closed doors that they doesn’t want to bother others as well. The strange feeling in Eric’s  stomach  returns. _

 

_ “Yeah, I’m excited to see him miss a few more goals,” Eric says instead, trying to keep calm and Harry claps him on the shoulder. _

 

_ “What are you talking about? I’ve never missed a goal in my life.” A familiar voice suddenly fills the air and Eric’s feels the air knocked out of his lungs.  _

 

_ He whips his head around so hard that he swears he hears something crack in his neck. The plan of keeping calm is thrown out of the window when he sets sight on him. _

 

_ In the entrance there’s Dele, bright eyes and a crooked smile on his lips staring at them in amusement. Eric's heart starts pounding again and he can’t help the smile that appears on his own face. Dele looks good and Eric wants to get up and embrace him, kiss him but he has to restrain himself.  Dele’s skin is darker than he’s ever seen him, the familiar curls on top of his head. There’s a glow around him, that Eric can’t quite place, but it’s choking him, taking every bit of oxygen from his brain.  _

 

_ “Oh come on lads, is no one going to hug me?“  _

_ His arms are wide open and it’s costing Eric a lot of strength to let his friends go first.  _

_ When Harry and Kyle have  finished embracing him, Eric feels himself enveloped in the familiar warmth of his boyfriend.  _

_ He presses his face inside the crook of his neck, inhaling the earthy scent and the comfort that is his home. It’s a short hug, too short but they are still in front of 2 cameras and 20 of their teammates, so the rest will have to wait until they’re in their rooms, far away from prying eyes. Eric really hopes they’re going to share.  _

 

_ When Dele lets go of him, Eric misses his warmth instantly.  They have time, Eric tells himself. They’re going to have time later. _

 

_ Later turns out to be much later and Eric groans in frustration when the manager starts to tell them another story about how important team spirit is. Beside him Dele chuckles and his fingers find his wrist beneath the table, squeezing affectionately. Eric leans into the contact as much as he can and then finally they are told to go to their rooms and they’re off for the night. _

 

_ As soon as their lips meet, Eric’s blood is rushing south. Like an electric current and he feels his body come alive under Dele’s touch. Dele kisses like he plays football, aggressive and gentle at the same time. Movements controlled and yet so carefree that Eric is getting dizzy. He feels like a teenager again, every nerve on high alert but god did he missed this. He feels like he’s whole again, the missing puzzle piece back at the place where it belongs. _

 

_ They don’t speak  in English that night, their bodies taking over,  saying  a language of their own and it’s all Eric needs. _

  
  


_ They win against Greece. It’s hard work but in the end not that much of a problem. Eric is ecstatic to play with Dele again after months of missing each other on the pitch. _

 

_ “You should come back,” Eric says before they depart again and the look on Deles face already tells him the answer . _

 

_ “I like it in Madrid,” is all Dele says, and  Eric wants to ask what about here, what about me? He’s selfish  but he wants Dele happy so maybe he has to suffer for it. _

 

_ And Eric wonders if it’s really worth it. Wonders if his aching heart is going to tear himself apart someday. _

 

_ * _

 

After the night they spent together something shifts between them and they’re almost back to being  _ EricandDele _ again. There’s still something wrong though, because even though they talk, they don’t manage to really  _ talk _ .

 

It's long overdue and it hangs heavy above them like a dark cloud shortly before a thunder. But the thunder isn’t coming and Eric is getting anxious. He feels the rain coming on and he doesn’t know if he should take an umbrella or just risk getting wet. He feels it in his bones, the tension running high just waiting to get out.

 

It’s Thursday when it happens and it’s ugly, dirty and heavy but the world looks cleaner afterwards. 

 

They’ve gotten lunch together again with Harry, something that became a habit between them. It is mostly just Eric and Dele but sometimes they get joined by a few of their teammates.

 

Everything is fine until it suddenly isn’t. Eric wants to say it's Harry’s fault, but he knows that it’s just inevitable.

  
  


“I’m really happy you’re friends again,” Harry says casually as they’re taking their seats in the middle of the cafeteria. It’s crowded and loud, everyone seemingly having lunch at the same time. Eric knows that some of the younger teams have games the next day, so they are all acting more hyper than usual. 

 

Eric just nods while Dele shows Harry his teeth. 

 

“Wait, Ben asks. He   somehow ended up sitting with them at a table, waving his fork between the persons in question. “You two stopped being friends? How did that happen?“

 

There’s a  moment of silence before Dele breaks it. “Yeah, I don’t know. How did that happen?”  He huffs out a laugh and it makes Eric’s skin crawl.

 

“What did you do?” Ben looks curiously at Eric and he knows it’s all in good fun but it doesn’t feel like it. The storm that is brewing somewhere deep inside his chest is ready to explode, heavy and hot like lava wanting to escape from a volcano. Maybe he really wants to turn everything and everyone into ashes.

 

“Why don’t you ask  _ him.” _ “ Eric snapps, blood boiling. It’s comes out louder than he anticipated and some heads turn in his direction. Dele looks at him surprised and he sees a spark of hurt in his eyes but Eric is finished with this conversation. He stands up abruptly, shoving his chair back before leaving the cafeteria. It all comes crashing down on him and he needs to feel the cool air on his burning heart and aching soul.

 

It’s Dele who finds him later sitting on a bench somewhere on the training grounds. He has a coat with him that he wordlessly hands to Eric who takes it gratefully. The weather is still cold and Eric feels the shivers running down his spine, the cool air giving him goosebumps.

 

“You missed training. Poch is not happy with you. I told him you got sick.”

 

“Thanks.” Eric says, hugging his arms closer to his chest. 

 

“Okay, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?“ Dele asks gently, sitting down next to Eric but it’s too much for him really. 

 

“What's wrong?“ he asks incredulously. He huffs out a laugh, bitter and wrong tasting inside his mouth. 

 

“You want to know what's wrong? Okay, I’ll tell you what's wrong!“ He’s way too loaded to keep on sitting.

 

“ _ You _ ! It’s all you!  _ You _ coming back here.  _ You _ making everything complicated again. 

I was happy without you and now you are back and I can’t seem to function.” He runs his hands through his hair, doesn’t know what to do with them. He’s raging and it feels good letting it all out. 

 

“You fucking left! Why the hell are you back here!?“

 

“I… “Dele looks at him stunned and he can’t seem to find any words. 

“Madrid was great, you know.” He says eventually, looking at his hands. “I don’t regret going there.“ 

Each word feels like a stab in his Eric’s heart and he feels frustrated.

 

“That’s not what I asked.” he states through gritted teeth to keep himself from yelling. “Why Dele, why the fuck aren’t you in Madrid right  _ now _ ?“

 

“Everything was great, but I guess..I don’t know.” Dele’s’ looking at Eric now trying to find the right words and Eric can practically see his brain working. 

 

“I-- something was missing.” Dele finally admits, it's silent and more vulnerable than Eric has heard him in the last few months he has been back.

  
  


“ _ You _ ’ve been missing.”

 

“You left me.” Is all Eric says, it’s broken and he’s already close to tears. 

 

“You left me too!  You didn’t even fight! You just let me walk away!” And Oh, they’re definitely yelling now.

 

“I thought that’s what you wanted! Your dream, your everything!” 

 

“I don’t mean spain, Eric.“

 

“So it's my fault now?“ Eric is positive he’s going to get an aneurism if they keep on yelling towards each other.

“It’s no one’s fault!” Dele yells back at him. Hands thrown in the air in exasperation. He’s standing too now and they’re only separated by a small meter.  

 

“Maybe we’re both at fault, maybe because there’s always two in a fucking relationship. We both fucked up! But we we were both happy once and I want us to be happy again.” he adds, voice getting quieter as he makes a step towards Eric.

 

“We’ve been a complete mess and you know that.” Eric tells him, still not calmed down.

 

“Why is it so hard to let yourself be happy for once. I don’t know why you are always punishing yourself.“ Dele says and they’re face to face now. Eric stares into brown eyes, gentle and hard and he can feel Dele’s breath on his skin. His eyes drift to his lips slightly opened. His heart is beating heavy against his ribcage when he feels Dele Hand touching his wrist again, thumbing his pulse point.

 

“I still love you,”“ Dele says, soft and quiet. “I never stopped.”

 

“You don’t know me anymore.”“ Eric says, shaking Dele’s hand off and that’s when he leaves, words still ringing in his ears.

 

_ * _

 

_ “Sorry I’m not here at the moment, please leave a message after the peeep” _

  
  


_ we won against Bayern, Eric ! Can you believe ?- _

  
  


_ -Yeah, I’m happy for you  _

 

_ I’m sorry you lost- _

 

_ -It’s fine _

  
  


_ “Eric Diers phone, please call again or leave a message” _

  
  


_ I miss you  _

 

_ read 19:11 _

  
  
  


_ I miss you too  _

  
  


_ -I can’t do this anymore- _

 

_ * _

 

Eric is running again, running until his legs can’t take  anymore. His heart is burning and his muscles are aching, everything feels wrong but this time he knows where he’s going.

 

_ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

 

The words are echoing inside his head and with every word he runs faster. The cold air is hurting his lungs but he felt worse so he ignores it.

 

_ I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. _

 

He doesn’t have much to go before he’s reaching his destination but he thinks everything is falling down on him, so he tries to escape. He doesn’t feel his legs anymore but they are still carrying him, so he doesn’t stop.

 

_ I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. _

 

He barely has  warning before he’s doubling over, his stomach twisting when he empties the remains of his lunch on the ground before him _. _ He avoids getting anything on his shoes, so he just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and starts running again.

 

I love you.

 

The realisation hits him suddenly and with full force and he collapses on the grass, limbs stretched out like a starfish, chest heaving and before he knows it, he is breaking out in laughter, loud and something that turn into crying if he isn’t careful. Eric lies there what feels like an hour, doing nothing staring at the sky. It’s cloudy but there’s no rain so he tries to find images in the clouds. He thinks he just saw a goat, when he feels something tickle inside his ear and when he looks to his right there’s Anthony standing at his side, sniffing at him. He’s bleating once and then he’s off again running towards something Eric can’t see.

 

He sits up when he hears steps coming towards him.

 

“I didn’t know where to look for you,” Dele says. “Where do broken hearts even go?” But he’s here so Eric knows he’s lying.“Hearts don’t break around here,”Eric replies. 

 

_ Never again. _

 

“I can’t believe I haven’t been here since I’ve been back.” Dele says shaking his head before plopping down next to Eric.

“I still remember when we found this,” he says gesturing to the old barn. He smiles as  eyes are finding Jonas and Anthony eyeing them up with interest.

 

“In Madrid there were goats too,” he tells them. “But none of them were as nice as you.” Anthony gives a happy sound when Dele is stroking  his dark fur and Eric wonders if they can actually understand him. “They grew up so much,” he whispers before letting Jonas inspect his hands for something edible. “I really missed them” Dele says to no one in particular and Eric feels himself entranced by the way his friend is handling the animals once again.

 

“They missed you, too.”

 

Dele nods at him and then he’s fiddling with his ring again. It’s gold and shiny like Dele’s personality, the bracelet on his wrist catching Eric’s attention, like it did the first time he saw Dele again. 

 

His heart skips a beat and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

 

Dele is all dreams and reality to him, clouding his mind since the first moment he laid eyes on him in 2015. They’ve  both grown up, they’re different now and maybe he can try to be happy again, maybe it’s time for him to just accept the fact that his feelings will never change. There’ are still two hearts beating strongly in his chest and he’s not ready to give them up yet.

 

“Okay” he says, his throat tight, heart trying to jump through his mouth. He swallows, trying to get it back down but it’s pounding mercilessly.

Dele looks at him with wide eyes confused and then surprised like someone who doesn’t expect the answer he is given.

Eric can’t blame him, not really.

 

“Okay” he repeats, this time more determined and the way Dele’s face lights up at his words, doesn’t make Eric regret anything.

 

For a moment Dele seems to hesitate, unsure if he’s allowed to even get closer, even though they’ve been close so many times before and it pains Eric to see. 

He hasn’t been a saint either and they’ve both made mistakes, but maybe it’s time to move on and so Eric takes it into his own hands. 

 

He pulls Dele close, hands pressed to his cheeks before looking him in the eyes, questioning. There still sitting on the grass and everything smells like animals. It’s not romantic and yet it’s the most special place on earth.

Dele’s eyes are glassy and Eric knows he’s close to tears, so he smiles before pressing his lips against Dele’s. They’re soft and warm and Dele tastes like peppermint and home. 

It’s familiar and exciting equally alike and Eric can’t get enough. He’s hungry like a lion starved for years. He presses himself closer to feel Deles body flush against him and soon they’re both lying on the ground. 

Maybe if he tries he can actually merge them together, so that there’s never going to be any space between them,

 

It’s heart against heart and tongue against tongue and Eric feels the sparks running down his spine. When they break apart, he’s breathless and speechless, so he kisses him again and again, until both of them are breathing heavy and their lips are bruised.

In this moment Eric feels nothing but pure happiness and he holds Dele tight, breathing him in and hopes for forever.

  
  


_ * _

 

“Are we really going to do this?“ Eric asks for the what feels like twentieth  time this morning and Dele rolls his eyes at him. 

 

“Yes.  Come on. It’s not gonna be that bad.”

Dele says it as if  it’s simple and maybe it is, but all Eric can see are the mountains in his view and he thinks it's impossible for them to climb.

 

He hums, still unsure about all of this.

 

“What the worst that could happen anyway?”

 

“I don’t know? The end of our career?“

 

“We’re old, Eric. It’s not like our careers are  gonna last forever.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Eric grumbles and Dele hits him lightly in the shoulder. Eric grips his thighs so that Deleis not in danger of  not falling from where he’s currently perched on his lap.

 

“Don’t be a dick. it's just a selfie.“

 

_ Yeah, but what a selfie it is going to be. _

 

“We’re gonna be kissing.“

 

“We like kissing.”

 

“But will others like us kissing, too?”

 

“Well, they won’t have any choice.“ Dele decides before he’s holding his phone above both their heads, getting ready to take a photo of them.

 

“I love you,” Dele whispers before he’s pressing his lips against Eric’s and Eric smiles into the kiss. 

 

_ I love you, too. _

  
 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hearts don't break around here [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938096) by [ItsADrizzit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsADrizzit/pseuds/ItsADrizzit)




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